A Husband of Her Own. Brenda Novak
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never seen determination on a person’s face like he’d so often seen on hers—usually when they were competing in some way. He knew how badly she hated to lose, but she’d never let him see her cry. If he beat her at something, she’d jut out her chin and tell him he’d had a stroke of luck. Or she’d challenge him again. Sometimes he let her win just because he was tired of being goaded to give her another chance.
So, all in all, he supposed what had happened when they were young probably wasn’t so different from what happened to a lot of kids. In elementary school, boys occasionally pinched girls, pulled their hair, whatever. It was the “cooties” stage, and girls turned up their noses at boys, too. Rebecca just never forgave him as they grew older. There were times when he’d tried to seek her out, tried to win her over, but it made no difference at all.
He remembered one time in particular, right before his first game as starting quarterback for the varsity football team. He was only a junior and had yet to prove to the town that his dad, who was head coach, hadn’t put him in because of the family connection. The senior who’d been planning to start that year was furious about losing his position. So were his folks. They’d stirred up all kinds of trouble around town, which threatened his father’s job, and Josh knew the only way to silence the critics was to play the best game he’d ever played in his life. He was feeling the pressure of it all when he spotted Rebecca standing near the bleachers. He caught her eye, thinking if he could only get her to smile at him, just once, everything would be okay. But she’d cast him that “who gave you the right to breathe” look and turned away.
Fortunately, he’d thrown for over two hundred yards, including three touchdown passes, and they’d won the game. No thanks to Rebecca.
The other girls in town came around, though. In the second grade, he’d pulled Beth Paris’s ponytails countless times, yet she’d ended up asking him to take her to the Homecoming Dance when they were seniors. And she’d wanted to do a lot more than dance. Certainly no hard feelings there.
Forget about Rebecca, he told himself, growing cranky. It’d been twenty-four years since he’d met her, and he was just as confused by her now as he’d ever been. Men who thought women were complicated creatures didn’t know the half of it—unless they knew Rebecca Wells.
“You don’t like it?” she said, sounding for the first time in all those twenty-four years as though she wasn’t quite sure of herself.
“What are you talking about?”
“The expression on your face. You look like you’re ready to choke someone.”
He wondered what she’d say if he told her she was the one he was thinking about choking. She probably wouldn’t be surprised. If she wasn’t so engrossed in cutting his hair, she’d most likely be thinking about choking him, too. That was the way it was between them.
“Looks good,” he said, even though he couldn’t tell a whole lot while it was still wet. It just seemed shorter.
She set her scissors down on the vanity and retrieved her blow-dryer from a holster-like holder. “You’re lucky to have that cowlick,” she said. “It gives your hair some lift here, off the forehead, and adds a lot of body.”
“Yeah, well, you might mention that to my mother the next time you see her standing in line at the drugstore to buy Dippity-do,” he said. “Maybe I won’t get a jar for Christmas this year.”
“If I came within ten yards of your mother, she’d probably shoot me.”
“Now that you mention it, she is a little bitter,” he admitted. “I guess I’m stuck with the Dippity-Do.”
“If it depends on me, you are,” she said and switched on the blow-dryer. The resulting whir left Josh to his own thoughts again, but only for a few minutes. Soon Katie interrupted them by tapping Rebecca’s shoulder. “Your father’s here,” she hollered over the noise.
CHAPTER FOUR
“THERE YOU ARE, my boy,” Mayor Wells boomed, cutting across the salon.
Rebecca turned off the blow-dryer. Josh brushed the hair off his drape and stood to shake hands. “Good to see you, sir. You’re looking fit, as always.”
Dundee’s mayor tapped his rounding middle. “Ah, the weight catches up with you eventually. Be forewarned. But you don’t have to worry about that until you find someone to cook for you. When are you and that cute little Mary planning to tie the knot?”
He and Mary Thornton had been dating since Mary’s divorce was final six months ago. Glen, her ex, had taken off for the big city almost a year before that, and Mary and their nine-year-old son, Ricky, had moved back in with her parents. Word had it that Glen was too busy chasing skirts to be a very conscientious father. Whether Glen was chasing skirts or not, Josh knew Ricky never heard from him. So Mary was understandably a little anxious to provide her son with a new and improved role model.
Josh had no doubt he was the role model she had in mind, but he wasn’t entirely convinced he was going to let her lead him to the altar. He loved Ricky. Most of the time he liked him better than Mary. But he doubted the enjoyment he received from knowing her son was enough of a basis for marriage.
He opened his mouth to say that he and Mary had no plans, but Doyle’s attention had already shifted to Rebecca. “So you came through, huh?”
A certain strain around the mouth and eyes told Josh Rebecca wasn’t happy to see her father. “I told you I would,” she replied.
Doyle considered Josh’s hair. “Well, it’s not blue. That’s a good sign.”
Josh couldn’t help glancing in the mirror, even though he’d been watching the entire process. Rebecca had actually given him a good cut. Though she hadn’t quite finished, his hair was dry enough now that he could see what it was going to look like, and he was impressed. He’d been settling for the cut Ed down at the barbershop gave almost everyone who walked in, but she’d added a touch of style that was a welcome change.
“It’s definitely not blue,” he said, refusing to allow her too much credit.
“Did you stop by for a reason?” Rebecca asked her father.
The mayor smiled. “Just wanted to see how things were going down here.”
“Well, we haven’t killed each other yet, if that’s what you were worried about.”
Doyle turned just enough to exclude Rebecca from the conversation. “I hear you and your brother have yourselves another million-dollar stallion out at the ranch. That’s five now, isn’t it? Good for you. You’re making quite a name for yourself in the Quarterhorse business.”
“Things are going well, thanks,” Josh said.
“How’s the resort coming along?”
A chung indicated Rebecca had just shoved the blow-dryer back into its holder. In his peripheral vision, Josh saw her fold her arms, cock one leg and glower at her father. “I’m only an investor,” he said, “so I’m not involved in the day-to-day management. But it seems to be doing well under Conner’s hand.”
“Who would’ve thought that Armstrong fella could turn his life around and manage to pull off a project of this size? It’s sure gonna do the community some good. Yes, sir.” He shook his head. “Gives a father hope, doesn’t it?”
At this Rebecca rolled her eyes and although Josh caught the insult in what Doyle said, he pretended not to notice. Whatever was going on between father and daughter had nothing to do with him. He’d agreed to the truce. He’d done his part. After he paid for his haircut, he was off the hook until the anniversary party.
“By the way, Rebecca’s gettin’ married and moving to Nebraska in a few weeks,” Doyle went on. “Did she tell you?”
A coughing fit seized Rebecca. She quickly excused herself by mumbling something about needing a drink.
“I’ve